Lacrimo
by kerplank
Summary: SLASH. Draco names him Lacrimosus, a name that said the story of his life. Oneshot drabble. LVHPDM


It doesn't take long for people to notice how he has changed. Its rather obvious. He does not smile. He does not laugh. He doesn't talk to his friends. Instead, he sits as far away as he can from others. The once semi happy child is now an unhappy old man, made old by things he should not have seen.

Whenever someone comes near him, they fall quite and skitter away as fast as they can, not being able to stand his cold hate spreading off of him. When the Daily Prophet screams for him to be gone, people believe.

The once hero, now a pariah just wanders throughout the day. When he comes into class, the teachers ignore the blood running from a split lip and a cut on his temple. They just glare at him for disrupting class.

Then he is slapped by a girl, one who was his best friend so long ago, but really she stopped being his friend only the summer before. He is accused of vile things. Some he did, most he didn't.

He killed his godfather.

He killed his parents because of the prophecy.

He broke Ginny Weasley's heart.

Cho Chang is pregnant with his child.

He is gay.

He molested Ron Weasley.

He is a deatheater.

He has killed thousands in a war that began before he was born.

He hates muggles.

Much is said of him, but he just walks away. Yes, he may be gay, he did kill his godfather and parents (in his mind), but the other things…. People talk about the ones they do not like.

When people start to disappear, he is blamed. When people are killed, he goes everywhere bloodied and bruised. For when he cleans up, another attacks. But in a way he is happy to be hurt. It means he is real. And it is better than to be completely ignored. At least he exists.

Dumbledore's famous twinkle disappears when his eyes rest on the Boy. Such a shame that he went to waste. Oh well, there will be others to defeat the Dark Lord.

The Boy Who Lived stops living. His life in a daze, held on by a single thread. Then when he felt all was lost, he is saved.

Draco Malfoy came and swept the Boy off of his feet, giving him a new name, Lacrimosus, or Mosus for short. Mosus liked his new name. It rang true.

All he loved had died or gone away. But now people would understand.

He loved his Draco. Draco kissed away the pain, replacing it with pleasure. SO he did not argue when he was brought in front of Voldemort. He was pleased.

Voldemort was also pleased with the gift that the Malfoy boy had brought him. When he offered Mosus a chance to be strong alongside him, Mosus agreed.

But Voldemort was unlike anyone he had ever known. And Draco became jealous. Jealous enough to challenge Voldemort to a duel over Mosus. He agreed.

They both wanted to have Mosus. And so did Mosus. Here was his knight in shining armor, looking like moonlight, swathed in a light blue. But there was power that has risen him up, looking more like he had in school. He was pale, but had dark dark hair, dressed in black. There were Mosus's opposites, both of his loves, both fighting to the death.

Like a bad movie they fought, and neither won. Both lay dying by Mosus, who could not believe what he had caused. His loves were dead. So in the end. Mosus must die also.

For did it not say in the prophecy that neither could live without the other? So Mosus returned to a place he had dreamed.

Far away in a forest, there was a clearing. And there stood the Savior, The Hero, The Golden Boy, just Boy, and Lacrimosus. And there, they all died.

Months later, a prince from a small province was a-hunting. What he found made him weep. There, in a small clearing lay a man in a glass tomb, immortalized forever in death. He will not rot or decay. Nothing will touch him, him who was hurt. The prince took the tomb and had it placed in a special room in his castle.

For years to come, people who were in love, but rejected, or had lost a part of themselves that they could never get back, came and saw the still beautiful man, who lived and died in sorrow. And there he stayed, for years to come, the sleeping beauty of death.


End file.
